


got on my leather jacket, thriller

by mired



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Laundry Room, Laundry, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 17:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5710705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mired/pseuds/mired
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FN-2187 (a recent transfer from the Imperial Academy) takes on the tall task of doing laundry -- with a little help from Poe Dameron (the Rebels' star quarterback) and Rey (who doesn't even go here).</p>
            </blockquote>





	got on my leather jacket, thriller

I.

FN-2187 surveyed the room. Cold, bleak, windowless. Two rows of off-white cubes, subtle differences between the machines in each. All collectively humming.

Freedom was sweet, but with freedom came responsibility. He’d never done laundry before. Back at the Academy, it had all been washed for him: at the end of each week, he’d stand in line to pick up a clean uniform, change, and then he’d deposit his current set in a huge bin, mixed up with everyone else’s, always wondering if the uniform he put on might be the one he’d had the week before, or perhaps the week before that, or maybe even the first one he’d ever worn. It probably wasn’t. The black separates were, of course, made of elastic material -- for ease of movement, but this also made them ONE SIZE FITS ALL. Fitting for the First Order’s inhuman efficiency.

He’d figured there wouldn’t be anyone around on the first Saturday morning of the year, but it sounded like everyone else had figured the same thing. Worse, he thought he sensed the presence of another --

“Yo, buddy!” FN-2187 jumped and nearly knocked over his hamper. The speaker popped up from behind a machine on the far end of the room, his strong features barely visible between his head of tousled hair and the huge, sopping pile of clothes in his arms.   
“What, me?”

“Yeah! Could you do me a huge favor? You see those dryer sheets?”

“Dry -- what?” FN-2187 didn’t like to expose his ignorance around people so obviously experienced at doing laundry, but he had no choice: a quick scan of the room told him that there were no “sheets” around, besides the one in the pile the other boy was currently drowning in. And those were certainly not dry.

“They’re in an orange box…to your left…peek around the corner of that one…yeah, those! There you go….” _Gosh, he probably thinks I’m an idiot. These are probably commonplace?_ But the other boy guided him with a kind of sweet patience in his voice FN-2187 had never before heard, right up until he’d located the “dryer sheets,” picked them up, and placed them on a different machine into which the other boy was now putting his wet laundry.

“Thanks a million, buddy! I don’t know how they got all the way over there. I’m Poe, by the way -- Poe Dameron,” the boy said, holding out his hand.

FN-2187 shook it, unsure of how to respond. “I’m…FN…” He’d be toast as soon as he said the numbers, but he couldn’t just make up a name.

Understanding lit up Poe’s face. “FN? Buddy…”

FN-2187 stared at him.

“FN. Finn. I’m gonna call you Finn -- can I call you Finn?”

Well, evidently Poe Dameron could just make up a name. Finn grinned.

 

II.

Poe left in a bit of a hurry after that, explaining (on his way out the door, and in his particularly fast way of speaking) that he was already late for a strategy meeting and that he _really_ wanted to make Coach Organa proud this season and that he was _so_ sorry he couldn’t help Finn do laundry but that it was really _quite_ simple and to ask _anyone_ for help and that they should _definitely_ hang out sometime later. (“Emphasis on the last,” he’d said as he disappeared, with what Finn could’ve _sworn_ was the briefest of winks.)

Finn headed back to Poe’s first machine, mentally thanking Poe for (inadvertently) showing him this first step. He opened the door; that was easy enough. Now to put his clothes in… 

A square ceiling tile dropped with a resounding CLANG onto the exact spot where Finn had been about to set his hamper. He looked up just in time to see a pair of boots falling out of the void the tile had left.

“Hold up!” the boots’ owner yelled. The drawstring bag in her left hand sliced through the air, dangerously close to Finn’s throat, as she steadied herself with her right and landed gently on top of the tile that (Finn assumed) she’d been hiding on top of all this time. “That’s my washer. I was here first.”

Finn staggered backwards, speechless for a moment. But only a moment.

“What do you mean, you were here first?” Finn protested. “How was I supposed to know that? I didn’t see you at all, and I’ve been here for --”

“I’m sorry,” She began to unload the bag (which contained fewer clothes, Finn noticed with some surprise, than his hamper). “But the thing is, I’ve got to get home, and -- oh, what’s this?”

She fished out a large, shiny. brown-and-red thing that, as Finn got closer, resolved itself into a beat-up (or well-loved, perhaps) leather bomber jacket. 

“Is this yours?” she asked. Finn shook his head.

“I can’t believe someone would put this in a washing machine and leave it behind.” Her hands, with the utmost respect for its construction, traversed the jacket’s many tears and worn spots; her eyes widened with wonder. “I believe it’s part of a very limited run. I’ve never seen one quite like it before…I guess it must be worth quite a lot…”

“You gotta put it back!” Finn burst out, without really knowing why.

The girl looked at him curiously. “You’re really not supposed to put this sort of thing in a washing machine.”

“What I mean is,” he said, recovering, “you shouldn’t take it. I’m sure P -- someone -- is looking for it.”

She considered the option. “Okay. We’ll let it air-dry. Come on, you can put your laundry in here too if you haven’t much.” She gestured towards his quarter-full hamper. “But quickly! I have to leave soon.”

Finn would have muttered something along the lines of any delay being entirely her fault, but he kept his mouth shut; he was beginning to rather like this strange girl.

“I don’t know your name…”

It seemed the feeling was reciprocal.

“Finn.”

“I’m Rey.”

 

III.

Rey had successfully navigated their combined laundry to the dryer, and Finn (armed with his new knowledge) delightedly added a dryer sheet. The mysterious leather jacket, to Rey’s delight, appeared to be relatively unaffected by its previous turn in the washing machine.

“It’s totally your size! You ought to try it on,” Rey said, giggling. “Go on! Just for kicks.”

Finn, inexplicably drawn to the jacket, did as she said and admired his vague reflection in the ceramic of the dryer. The jacket had character; he looked like an individual now. He hardly recognized the boy from the Academy days.

“Buddy?”

A voice from upstairs. Uh-oh. Finn turned towards Rey, away from the door. A hot flush suffused his cheeks. _Poe’s jacket. Of course._ He could imagine what this scene might look like from Poe’s point of view -- he could imagine that Poe now saw him as a thief! _And taking the jacket off in a hurry would only make things worse…_

“Hey, buddy!”

“Do you know him?” Rey prodded Finn.

“It’s his jacket,” Finn said, without moving his lips. “It’s his! I don’t want him to think...” But he could hear Poe bounding down the steps, and there was nothing else for it.

He turned around slowly to find Poe’s sparkling grin right in his face.

“Poe Dameron!” Finn’s enthusiasm wasn’t fake -- he was glad to see Poe again, he really was, though he hadn’t expected it to be at such close quarters -- but if only the circumstances had been different; if only he had never put the jacket on. Be cool, Finn! Be cool. Look, he’s not mad!

“Hey, that’s my jacket!” Still not mad; just stating facts.

The thoughtless owner now positively identified, Rey pounced, inserting herself between the two boys.

“Your jacket? I can’t believe you would machine wash a jacket like this! You ought to be ashamed!” 

“I was just trying to save some time!” Poe said, indignant.

“So you’d take an extra few minutes over the health and well-being of this one-of-a-kind jacket?”

Poe held her gaze for a few seconds, then sighed. “You know what, you’re right. I messed up. I apologize to you. I apologize to my jacket. I apologize to my jacket’s mother. I am a terrible jacket owner. How might I atone for my sins?”

Rey gave him a you-are-so-dramatic eyeroll and a bonus how-do-you-think shrug.

“I know how,” Poe said. “You know what, Finn? Keep the jacket. It suits you.”

***

“Now that it’s yours,” said Rey to Finn, after Poe had left with his hamper full of his dry laundry, minus a leather jacket, “can I try it on?”


End file.
